


A Simple Taste

by Lavendergaia



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-18
Updated: 2014-10-18
Packaged: 2018-02-21 14:54:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2472305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavendergaia/pseuds/Lavendergaia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's no reason a secret base should have all the necessary tools to make homemade lasagna, but Skye isn't complaining.</p>
<p>Trip and Skye cook together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Simple Taste

Skye was half-suspicious and half-hungry as she peered into the kitchen of the Playground. “What smells so good?” In all the time they’d been there, she’d never actually had the experience of the kitchen smelling like real food rather than freeze-dried rations or something that had been industrial-microwaved.

At the counter, Trip was cutting tomatoes and grinding them into a large pot that was simmering on the stove. He was wearing a deep blue apron that she could only assume had come from some sort of undercover mission. “I’m making sauce for lasagna.”

Narrowing her eyes at him, she clarified, “You’re _making_ sauce?” She looked at the contents of the pot—it certainly looked like spaghetti sauce. “You know that it comes in a jar, right?”

“Not if I have anything to say about it.” He took the strainer off the top of the pot and slid it into the sink, then rinsed it off before stirring the sauce. “Do you know what’s in that processed crap? I’ll give you a hint, it’s not really tomatoes.”

“You sound like Simmons,” Skye said. She swallowed hard and tried to ignore the sudden ache in her chest. “So what’s all this about?”

Trip shrugged and started chopping up garlic into miniscule pieces. “I like cooking. Don’t get to do it too often, what with all the traveling and everything. Garrett never kept us in one place for too long and the necessary tools aren’t really the light load you’re required to carry as a specialist.” He caught her eye and smiled at her. “Saw that there was a tomato strainer here and a bunch of other things and thought, what the hell. Figure we can all use a good home cooked meal while we have the chance.”

Nodding to herself, Skye picked up a lone chunk of tomato still sitting on the cutting board and popped it into her mouth. “So you’re like Specialist Bobby Flay?”

“Now, girl, there’s no need to get insulting.” When she giggled, he said, “It’s comforting, you know? Like what you do on your computer or what Fitzsimmons used to do in the lab: you put the right things in and you know what’s gonna come out every time. And with this, you get to eat it after. And know it’s not gonna rot your body from the inside.”

Skye leaned against the counter and watched him as she scraped the garlic into the sauce and added a pinch more salt. “Be honest, is there anything you can’t do?”

Chuckling, he said, “Well, I’m not planning on disappointing you if I don’t have to.” Trip looked up from the sauce to meet her gaze. “My grandma taught me how to cook. Said that it was important to know how to take care of ourselves in every way, not just protect ourselves physically, which was what granddad was focused on.”

“Your grandma sounds smart,” Skye said, pursing her lips together. “What else could you have been making us while I’ve been eating Pop Tarts all this time?”

His laugh was deep and it made her feel warm in her stomach. “I make a pretty mean chicken marsala. And I’m not bad at baking in general. I’ve actually got some great scone recipes from Peggy Carter.”

Skye raised her eyebrows at him. “Now you’re just making stuff up.”

“I would never lie about Aunt Peggy just to impress a pretty girl,” he said and Skye blushed. “Those I am saving for the inevitable event when the Director gets mad at me. He can’t stay mad at Peggy Carter scones.”

“Oh, but you can use Aunt Peggy to bribe your boss.”

“Hey, Coulson never gets mad at you, the rest of us do what we can.” When Skye just shook her head and rolled her eyes, Trip elbowed her gently. “What about you, girl, you cook anything?”

Skye snorted ungracefully. “Surprisingly enough, home economics was not a priority at the orphanage. And then, you know, I lived in a van. You never met the van,” she said, more as a reminder to herself than to him (sometimes she forgot that he hadn’t been around forever), “It was a good van, but not exactly a center for creating culinary masterpieces. It did have a hot plate.”

“You learned to take care of yourself in your own way,” Trip said, lowering the heat on the stove. “Nothing but respect for that.”

Making some room on the counter, Skye hopped up on it, sitting eye level with Trip as she swung her feet, heels bouncing against the bottom cabinets. “There was this one foster home. The mom was a total Martha Stewart type. She used to do canning, you know? Like make jams and marmalades and pickles and salsas. Just all the time. And she’d dress them up all fancy in wrappings and bows and hand them out to the neighbors all Stepford style. It was all so domestic and homey to me and she said she’d teach me how to do it and it was a thing that we could do together because she had done it with her daughter before she left for college.” She bit her bottom lip hard, brown eyes trained on the floor. “But I was only there for like five weeks or something before I was moved again and it never happened.”

When she looked up, she saw Trip staring at her, his eyes warm with sympathy and affection. He carded his hand through her hair, gently pulling her forward so that he could press a soft kiss to her forehead. Skye smiled softly and squeezed his arm. Trip moved away, but only as far as the stove so he could scoop up a small amount of tomato sauce onto a wooden spoon. He blew on it gently for a few seconds, then held it out for her. “Take a taste.”

The sauce was rich with flavor and she couldn’t help groaning a bit. “Okay, that is freaking fantastic. I say we keep this all for the two of us and let the others fend for themselves.”

“Not going to share with anyone?”

She grabbed his wrist so she could lick the rest of the sauce off the spoon. “Nope.”

“Not even Fitz?”

Skye considered for a second. “Okay, maybe Fitz, but only because I love him a lot.”

“I appreciate that sacrifice because you know Fitz is gonna eat half this pan of lasagna by himself.”

Tilting her head back and laughing, she took a second to enjoy this moment where nothing awful was happening or looking to happen soon and she had something positive to look forward to. Trip moved over to the sink to wash the spoon and the tomato strainer. After he turned the water off, he leaned against the counter and said, “You want me to teach you how to make sauce?”

She looked at the pot on the stove and then back at him. “Is it not already made?”

“Well, yeah, this batch and I made extra for us to freeze, but another time when we get some downtime. It’ll probably happen eventually. We can do meatballs next time too.”

She perked up at the idea of meatballs. “It’s not some secret Triplett family recipe?”

He shrugged. “Maybe, but my grandma would have loved you. Probably would have insisted on teaching you herself if she could’ve. I consider it my duty to pass it on to those who are worthy.”

Licking her lips slowly, she said, “Yeah? I’m Triplett Secret Recipe worthy?”

Trip reached out and stroked her cheek with his thumb. “Girl, you are Triplett everything worthy.”

Her heart leaped into her throat and it took her a second to remember how to breathe. Wrapping her hands around the back of his neck, she pulled him close and pressed her lips to his. Trip kissed her back enthusiastically, large hands resting on her hips. She pulled back gently and rested her forehead against his; he was grinning at her and all she could do was kiss him again.

After giving her a final quick kiss, Trip moved away to stir the sauce, though his smile did not fade. “Yes,” she said finally. “You should teach me how to make sauce.”

The look he gave her made her heart leap in her chest. “If you don’t have anything else to do, you can stay and help me finish the lasagna.” He reached towards the opposite end of the counter and picked up a small machine. “We’ve got a pasta maker. I was gonna make it myself.”

“Exactly why does a secret base need a pasta maker?”

“So I can show you how to make pasta.”

Laughing, she reached out and grabbed his hand, lacing her fingers through his. “Sure, okay. I guess I am your eager student for the rest of the day or until the world needs saving again, whatever comes first.”

He kissed her hand and gently pulled her off the counter until she was standing next to him. “Well then, we’d better get to work.”


End file.
